


if you were church, I'd get on my knees

by Magepaw



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/F, Femdom, Gift Fic, Implied Consent, Lesbian Sex, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Rule 63, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magepaw/pseuds/Magepaw
Summary: Form and function, that's what made Belial so effective. She was a master of misdirection with those foolish enough to be distracted by mammary glands. A pity such charms were wasted on Lucilius.





	if you were church, I'd get on my knees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlumTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/gifts).



> _lucifer: theyre probably looking over equations again_   
>  _gabriel, nodding, high-pitched voice: uh-huh_   
>  _-plumtea, april 2k19_
> 
>  
> 
> (i am forcibly escorted out of granblue)
> 
> title from [FOB](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4P7fpxVMa_Q), rated b for belial, MIND THE TAGS, I promise everything is consensual because it's belial, this started off as the nice gift and it was going to be way shorter but unfortunately _belial_ , so enjoy dead bird guro-flavored pwp!!! 
> 
> pre-canon and everything is the same except lesbian angels (important [visual reference](https://twitter.com/wahoosandalphon/status/1119375954436956160)): featuring asexual sadist lucilius who can dom the hell out of belial but every once in a rare while will actually allow reciprocation ~~but tfw you can't stop thinking about lucifer and her stupid replacement~~

 

 

Lucilius's ink-stained fingernails tapped an impatient rhythm against the hardwood desk in her chamber. The candle sputtered, flame dancing dangerously low in a pool of melted wax. A dull ache pressed more insistently behind her weary eyes as each sleepless hour dragged on.

 

These figures… There were too many variables to accurately run a simulation in the lab to see if this thing could even fly, so she was stuck behind the desk scouring the notes until she could refine it into something functional. Frankly, this whole undertaking was more trouble than it was worth. But it was something only Lucilius knew how to fix, so of course Lucifer dumped it in her lap with that serene, vapid smile of hers, and none of Lucilius's protests about her burgeoning workload had meant a damn thing. She wanted to finish this foolish pet project so she could get back to more important work, but she also wanted to do it right, and that pride in her work was exactly the reason she was still wasting time on this.

 

She sighed and rubbed her temples. It was important for the supreme primarch to have a spare, of course. Lucilius had made it painstakingly clear that the skies would fall before _she_ would preside over eternity. And when Lucifer insisted on drawing up the plans herself, Lucilius had been glad to leave her to her own devices. One less thing for her to deal with, or so she had hoped in vain. But the primal in these blueprints was coarse and unstable at best, nothing at all like the sleek efficiency in every exalted line of Lucifer. Lucilius would rather scrap the whole rough draft and start over, if it hadn't been her friend's request to simply proofread her proposal and make sure it would pass the council's scrutiny.

 

Lucilius resisted the impulse to throw the papers onto the candle flame just to watch them burn. Perhaps she would have done so had she not felt hungry eyes watching her from across the room.

 

"Belial," Lucilius murmured, not glancing up.

 

"Faa-san, you should get some rest. Come to bed," purred a voice suddenly much too close. When the wet heat of a tongue came into contact with the shell of her ear, Lucilius swatted at the pest, who danced nimbly out of reach with a delighted laugh.

 

"I'm hardly in the mood for your mouth. If you don't intend to make yourself useful, remove yourself from my quarters immediately," Lucilius said, scowling.

 

"Ahh, so cold," Belial sang in response, feigning hurt. She brazenly hopped onto the desk to take a seat there, ignoring the warning arch of Lucilius's eyebrow. "You know what that tone does to me..."

 

Belial made it impossible to ignore her when she leaned forward to block Lucilius's view of the documents with her ample chest. She was out of uniform, a freedom of expression allowed only within the safe walls of their division. When she was not restricted by the pristine white leotard and gold chain of her rank, she was always overeager to release some of her pent-up energy. A smirk toyed on her lips as she picked up the papers and skimmed them.

 

The glow of candlelight was warm against her bare skin, casting shadows that flickered and pooled in the hollows of her collarbones. As she waited, Lucilius eyed the contrast of soft skin against her casual black clothing, or lack thereof – how that single jacket button strained against the swell of her breasts, how low the waistline of her pants dipped below the wide curves of her hips, how she splayed her thighs shamelessly wide to put her willing body on display.

 

Form and function, that's what made Belial so effective. She was a master of misdirection with those foolish enough to be distracted by mammary glands. A pity such charms were wasted on Lucilius.

 

"She looks like a feisty one," Belial chuckled, sliding the papers back to Lucilius. "Should be fun. More petite than your usual build, though. But I suppose anything would look delicate after Uriel. You really like 'em big, huh? Not that I'm complaining about the view around here..."

 

Lucilius cast a frosty glare down her nose at Belial, suppressing a swell of irritation. The familiar annoyance swirled with something she labeled as satisfaction in her craftsmanship. Her fingers remembered carving the high arch of that iliac crest down to the valley of her pelvis, winding sinew and muscle to string long femurs into alignment. Her hands had laboriously pieced and stitched that smooth skin to cover the glistening tissue and organs that filled the abdominal cavity now in front of her. Every inch of Belial belonged to Lucilius.

 

She regarded her fallen angel in haughty silence, waiting for her to say what she'd come in for. Belial chuckled, a deep and throaty sound, and tipped her head forward so that her nose nearly brushed against Lucilius's.

 

"Ah, no response? Too tired to get it up? C'mon, at least walk with me to the supply closet. Your candle's almost dead," she cajoled. Her tone was too familiar, Lucilius noted with a flash of annoyance.

 

Belial lingered in anticipation, the gleam of a fang visible above the curve of her still-smiling lips. Lucilius thought the elongated canines were a nice finishing touch – something to complete the predatory look, accentuate the insatiable hunger that burned in Belial's lecherous gaze. This close, this longing, she looked like a starving beast that would sink her teeth into Lucilius's throat. But she knew better than to bite. Belial was obedient.

 

"Useless assistant. Go get me another candle yourself," Lucilius snapped, crumpling the papers into a bundle. She would have rolled them up and smacked Belial in the face with them, if the primal wouldn't have enjoyed it so much.

 

"Oookay, okay," Belial drawled, as she swung her long legs back over the desk and strode off to do exactly that.

 

Lucilius finally stood and stretched. Her joints creaked in protest, stiffened from hunching over the desk. Perhaps a short break from this infernal project would be wise after all. She closed her tired eyes for a moment, savoring the brief rest. Lucifer had a lot to learn about functionality in design, although she supposed the supreme primarch wouldn't get to fully appreciate all the planning that went into Belial until the grand finale. There were things in this world only Lucilius had the burden of understanding. Then Belial reappeared in the doorway, and Lucilius grudgingly turned her attention back on her assistant.

 

"Well?" Lucilius prompted, crossing her arms over her slim chest. "Hurry up. You're wasting my time."

 

"I just wanted to make it last," Belial smiled. She kept talking, but Lucilius tuned out her flirtatious banter, fishing for praise she would never receive. They were pointless words aimed only to fill the silence between them. And still, Belial's true desire was written in every line of her body, tracing the deliberate sway of her hips as she strode back, the cocky tilt to her head as she met Lucilius's stare head-on and held out the candle. A challenge.

 

Lucilius pressed her lips together in a tight line, fraying patience wearing thin. She felt the simmering embers of her earlier frustration flare into something hot and destructive. Belial wasn't the only one who chafed at playing obedient with the primarchs, the council, all of their rules and order and the pointlessness of it all.

 

Carelessly Lucilius picked up the melting candle and tipped it forward to touch the guttering flame to the fresh wick. Liquid wax spattered against Belial's cleavage, making her gasp in shock.

 

Lucilius raised her eyebrows, studying Belial as she visibly shuddered. Those red eyes blinked rapidly, pupils blown wide by the sudden sensation. A whine caught in Belial's throat as the beads of wax solidified on her skin, caught between pain and pleasure. Belial's warped responses to sensory stimuli were a trait that made her a useful research subject as well – there was never any need to disable her pain receptors, not when it was one of her main motivators to participate in experiments.

 

There was no hiding her interest from Belial's rapt gaze, who licked her lips in anticipation. "Faa-san, more," she pleaded, eagerly setting the new candle on the desk. "It's been too long and I need it, I need you, I can get off just on the way you look at me, I'm already so we-"

 

"- _Belial_. Is that any way to ask me for a favor," Lucilius said, her voice dangerously soft and low. Candle wax dripped down her fingers, but Lucilius's frigid expression did not waver. Lucilius preferred the needy noises Belial made when her lungs were collapsing, impaled on the laboratory floor like an insect in her collection. There were few ways more efficient to gather data on a weapon than plunging it directly through that chest and then demanding a report. But this was an acceptable diversion, for the time being.

 

Belial's knees hit the floor with an audible thud.

 

Staring down at her eager Belial, Lucilius imagined how easy it would be to tear her limb from limb. She wouldn't even protest if Lucilius ripped her wings out of their sockets one by one, crushed each bone beneath the point of her heels, painted the walls with the brilliant rainbow of her innards. Everything she made, she had the power to destroy. Lucilius could always stitch her back together again once she was bored.

 

"Pretty please," Belial grinned up at her, knelt in supplication at Lucilius's feet, trembling legs pressed together in a perversion of worship.

 

Lucilius raised her leg slowly and settled the sharp point of a stiletto onto the soft meat of Belial's thigh. Belial was babbling something lewd again, hands tugging thoughtlessly at the white expanse of Lucilius's robes. Lucilius's fingers twitched. Belial would make such a pretty mess. Not in this room, though. It would take far too long to scrub the blood out of the hardwood and make things sterile and presentable again. There was a reason the research lab floors were tiled.

 

Without warning, Lucilius kicked her greedy hands aside. Belial yelped as she was flung back, her eyes alight with a wild gleam. How Lucilius despised that vulgar face Belial made when she got too excited.

 

"Don't touch me, clod. You'll get my robes filthy," Lucilius hissed.

 

Lucilius bent and gripped a fistful of dark hair, yanking roughly back to bare the vulnerable arch of Belial's throat. Her other hand thrust the sputtering candle forward, extinguishing the flame against Belial's skin. Belial jerked and shuddered as the wax dripped down her neck, moaning loudly. Lucilius's grip in her hair pulled ever tighter, forcing her spine in a backwards bow toward the floor.

 

"You're enjoying this… Disgusting," Lucilius whispered close to her ear, barely audible over her harsh panting.

 

The scent of burnt flesh coiled faintly in the wisps of smoke between them. It was nothing to a primal beast. A mere scratch. She could do much, much more. Maybe she would, if only to satisfy her own twisted sadism. She knew it was the possessiveness of it that Belial craved, the fact that it was _her_ hands and no one else's. She knew every ounce of dark material distilled and refined and shaped into her flesh, every individual bone that comprised her skeleton, the width and breadth of her black wings, the power pulsing at her core, all of it her design.

 

"I should decommission you after all," Lucilius continued softly. They both knew it was an empty threat. Mostly. "I'll melt your body down to a core I can actually use as an assistant."

 

"Yes, Faa-san, _yes_ -!"

 

Belial jammed her hand desperately between her thighs, seeking the release Lucilius would surely deny her. Lucilius considered breaking her fingers in punishment. It probably wouldn't stop her from touching herself, but Lucilius supposed nothing less than amputation would.

 

Then there was a tentative knock at the door.

 

Lucilius paused, weighing who it might be against whether or not she should care if they were overheard. Belial was shivering, cheeks flushed, lip bruised between her sharp teeth, but her movements stilled. She was waiting for permission to finish. Some sick kernel of rebelliousness made Lucilius consider calling the guest in just for a glimpse of Belial a disheveled wreck at her feet, panting like an animal in heat, eyes glazed dark with debauchery. But she dismissed the idea. They had both kept up appearances for too long to be careless now.

 

At a meaningful glance, Belial shuffled forward, still on her knees, to conceal her presence beneath the broad desk. She was obedient to Lucilius above all else, no matter how wracked with lust, and soon the ravenous pressure of her dark aura vanished into nothingness.

 

Lucilius flounced into her seat with an irritated sigh and dropped the spent candle on the desk. There was little room for her legs to fit with Belial's tall body crowded in front of her chair, but she deliberately stomped a few times until Belial flattened herself to the floor and made space. Belial moaned in soft appreciation at the rough treatment, earning her an extra vicious kick.

 

"Come in," Lucilius ordered. She folded her arms stiffly, not bothering to check if her headband was askew. If her unkempt hair was messier than usual, if there was ink and wax and any other dubious stains on her fingers, it was surely the fault of the long work night she'd pulled, and nothing more.

 

Gabriel, patient and pleasant as ever, opened the door. She was wreathed in the pastels of a beach sunrise, scallop shell pinks and oyster lavenders accentuating the gentle curves of her angelic form. Did that mean it was morning already? Lucilius rubbed her eyes and suppressed a curse. There were no windows in her quarters, and for good reason.

 

"Greetings, Lucilius. Lucifer is eager for your opinion, and asked me to…" Gabriel paused for a beat, a flicker of something crossing her countenance before it was smoothed back into a calm, bland smile. "Is this a bad time?" she asked pointedly, folding her hands behind her back. "I can come back later for a progress report if you are... otherwise engaged."

 

Lucilius raised an eyebrow. Concealed beneath the desk, beneath the voluminous white robes hiked up past her waist, Belial's claws were digging greedily into her thighs, peeling off her leggings and exposing her skin to the cool air. Lucilius leaned back into her chair, slowly draping her slim legs over Belial's shoulders as permission to continue.

 

"I can speak, can I not?" Lucilius said simply. Her chin came to rest in her palm as she regarded Gabriel with a cool stare. "What does Lucifer want now?"

 

Gabriel pursed her lips, but chose to press on with admirable dedication.

 

"Yes… well… Lucifer wishes to make her presentation as soon as possible. She is waiting for you to send your revisions. Shall I tell her you need more time?"

 

The accursed blueprints were still crumpled on the desk. Lucilius glared at them, fingers tapping against her chin. Somewhere in those numbers was a way to salvage this for Lucifer.

 

It would not function as a replacement primarch unless she could install a limiter, and a powerful one at that, to cap the overflow of its tempestuous nature. But such limitations would clearly go against Lucifer's intentions to give it a personality. There had to be some other way to control it, something Lucifer wouldn't protest. Make it work with a wave of her hand, like this small favor hadn't cost her a tremendous amount of time and effort, and frustration at Lucifer's vague instructions and pointless opinions about the color of a sparrow's plumage.

 

Lucilius's sharp eyes narrowed in disgust. She wanted to sneer at Lucifer's lack of self awareness, were she not in mixed company. Just look at her innocent desire to build a flawed thing so needy for her attention, so emotionally driven, so _imperfect_ —

 

Lucilius shifted her thighs, a soft hiss escaping her parted lips. Speaking of flawed beings needy for their creator's attention, the primarch of cunning had a wicked tongue. A pleasant flicker of warmth coiled low inside her, the glow of embers threatening to spread higher, burn hotter, consume this body in flame. Her pale eyelashes fluttered, a momentary lapse in control, but alertness returned to her gaze, cold blue and brittle as ice.

 

"No," Lucilius announced after consideration. She gathered the papers and thrust them at Gabriel. "I've decided no revisions are necessary. If this is Lucifer's vision, then it will be her responsibility in full. Tell her so."

 

Beneath the desk, Belial's too-long nails pinched her calf meaningfully. She did not appreciate being questioned. Lucilius shifted her weight, clamping the heat of her thighs tight enough to choke Belial between them. As she suffocated, Belial's claws scratched wildly against her narrow hipbones, the unyielding lines of her bare legs, the fabric of her robes, but Lucilius was unmoved. Hypoxia wouldn't be enough to kill her creation, but it was an easy way to make her shut up.

 

Gabriel looked like she wanted to say something, but wisely chose to hold her tongue. It was not her place. She accepted the papers and bowed her head, exiting Lucilius's quarters at a measured, but brisk, pace.

 

Lucilius felt the beginning of a rare smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. This was a golden opportunity that Lucifer had presented her with. Rather than alter the spare primarch to her own purposes, she would let it be the variable she needed in her plan, the unpredictable element to imbalance their homeostasis, the grit between perfect gears to wear them down a little more with every rotation.

 

Unusually contented, Lucilius leaned back in her chair to observe Belial's asphyxiation. Her fingers played absently in the soft curls of Belial's hair, twisting and tugging with amusement as Belial twitched and shuddered between her legs. She gazed fondly at Belial's feeble struggling, until her fluttering eyelids finally closed. The wet heat of Belial's tongue persisted, but her movements weakened and grew sloppy as she slipped in and out of consciousness.

 

Lucilius felt her shaky breath hitching on each inhale, exhaling in stuttering puffs through parted lips. There was a whimper trapped somewhere in the curve of her throat where she would never deign to release it. She sank into her chair, passively allowing the warmth to spread through her languid limbs, allowing herself this small taste of victory.

 

Let Lucifer be her own undoing. Let it all fall to pieces around her. Lucilius would only have to sit back and watch.


End file.
